Ashes, Ashes
by milkmoth
Summary: Maika and Itsuki's relationship. [written for livejournal's thirty kisses community]
1. unrivaled, invincible: Gold and Silver

_Title: _**Ashes, Ashes**

_Paring: _Kamiya **Maika**/ Otomiya **Itsuki**

_Written for: _livejournal's **30 kisses** challenge

_Theme: _**invincible, unrivaled**

_Rating: _K+ (for angst) now, but **T **for later

_Disclaimer: _The characters and original story on which this is based **belong to** **Arina Tanemura** and not me. What I write is just a paltry imitation of her awesome work. (Okay, hopefully not _paltry. _But certainly, not as good as what she wrote. So if you haven't, go and read _Gentlemen's Alliance _(_Shinshi Doumei Cross_) right now! )

**a/n**: I want to do the themes in order, but they'll be out of order most of the time (they make more sense that way). I hope everyone will enjoy and take a little time to** comment**… Please? **Spoilers abound**, so if you haven't read up to **chapters 34-35**, you probably shouldn't read. I might spoil you terribly, and I reallyreally don't want to. D:

* * *

He is the only Gold. 

There is only one at the Academy, and as fits his rank he will ascend to success. He will be known as the Gold at twenty, and as a newcomer to the industries his father's company (and he, second in command) will be embraced with open arms. He will be known as the Gold at thirty; when he heads his father's company he will be respected and almost-feared. He will be known as the Gold at forty, and by that time you'd think it wouldn't matter because his corporation will be the topmost in Japan. Perhaps in the world. But no, it still will, because anyone who's anyone will still know that he was the Gold of Imperial Academy. That will be enough. It is more than enough. It makes him a god, really. Untouchable, invincible, exclusive.

There is no one like him.

She, on the other hand, is a bronze. The lowest of the high, but always a low. The formality and splendor of his life are the things that are always going to be just out of her reach. At Imperial Academy, she's already learned this by heart. She puts on her brown, plain uniform every day. She knows.

But, there's no one like her, either. Because when she dances, he feels his heart thump a little faster for no good reason. When he sees her, he feels a smile. When he brushed hands with her, that once, after she dropped her bag, he thinks that he blushed.

This is too over-the-top for comfort. But he wants to see her, again and again and again. He makes stupid excuses to meet with her, which is more difficult than it sounds because she's a bronze and he is _the _gold. Their schedules, their lives, are so different that it's difficult to even glimpse her between classes.

"_Do you like me?"_ she whispered one day as he was leaving a class. It was so furtive. Even though she'd grabbed his hand, she'd let go of it so quickly that he could hardly tell it was there. Inconspicuous, he thought.

"_Do you like me?"_

He liked her. More than liked her, probably. More than loved her, he was sure.

She smiled. She had such a bright smile, and such clumsy manners, it was a wonder she was the same girl that danced so gracefully. They may well have been two separate people. He loved them both.

He has always tried to be kind to the bronze students, smiling freely and waving loosely, because that is what an emperor should do. He never gets close enough to touch, though, not to anyone but maybe Kazuhito, and even that relationship is unsure at best.

_Never close enough to touch._

He thinks, maybe, now that she's thrown her arms around him and kissing him, he's crossed that line.

No woman will ever be able to replace Maika. When he is twenty, he will still love her. When he is thirty, fourty, she will still be his only.

It's hard for him to think it possible they would ever be split, or that he could ever move on. He has never, really, moved on.

He's stupid. He's not invincible, after all.


	2. overflow: Love

**Theme: **#27, _overflow

* * *

_When they start to laugh too loudly, she hushes him.

It's kind of funny. He's the one who should be hushing her; he's the one who should have given her the first kiss. But the truth is, Itsuki is not some kind of prince. He is what he is, and sometimes his reputation gilds his personality past the truth. He's just an average teenage boy (_albeit, as Maika was quick to point out, one with fine manners and a gentle smile)_.

And a very lucky one, too. Because he's found a princess, who, by some miracle is willing to be his.

It's no matter that he is the gold and she's a bronze. It doesn't matter, because in love she can be a princess, if she wants. A Cinderella.

"Which makes you what?" She asks, nearly laughing, when he confesses this. He can tell by the way she looks down and bites her lip to keep from smiling too big that she's flattered, almost embarrassed.  
"A golden mouse?" he asks hopefully. She laughs again, and her laugh fades into the gray sky.

She clasps his hand around his, and for a moment, he forgets the cold. He forgets that they've snuck out here to be alone, and the only reason they _can _be alone is because it is below freezing.

She begins to hum something, and when she pauses to take in breath he can see her breath in a cloud. She begins to dance. Without inhibitions, she simply steps up and forward and begins with a little twirl, leading into a pose oh-so still and fluid. For a moment, she looks like an angel – fierce, with a pure look in her eyes, pale skin and rose cheeks. He smiles, although it seems like the action is a petty payment for her performance. She smiles back, and lets it go with an abrupt clumsiness.

Suddenly, the wind whips up and she freezes, holding a hand up to her ear. Her hair blows wildly in messy, frizzy strands around her face.

"Can you hear it?"

Itsuki cocks his head in an exaggerated manner, mimicking her.

"No."

She smiles too big. "It's a song."

"I don't hear it," he says, laughter in his voice.

In turn, she walks to him, and, knowing instinctively, he wraps his arms around her.

After a minute of silence and the whipping wind he can hear her heartbeat.

"Hear it now?"

She says it in a whisper, so as not to obscure the beat.

And he begins to laugh loudly, filling the silence and making Maika jump.

"Itsuki!" she exclaimed, flushing, her tone on the verge of scolding. But, Itsuki could see, from the way her eyes glittered, she was enjoying herself immensely.

"Emperor?"

Both freeze, caught in each other's arms. Maika's grip relaxes slightly after a moment, and she whispers so softly as to be barely audible:

"It's just Kazuhito-san, calling for you."

"Kazuhito-san?"

She doesn't respond to his inquiry about her casual use of the student council vice-president's given name, but he forgets quickly enough.

The two stand still like that, until they can hear Kazuhito's footsteps fading away. Gently, Itsuki lets go of her.

"You have to go now?"

"Yes."

"That was a close one."

"Maika," he says, taking her cold hands in his own.

She looks down at their hands, then back at him, as if to say _No. _

He lets go again, gives her one last sad kiss on her forehead and walks away with a quiet, "I'll see you later."

Their near-encounter with Kazuhito reminds them both that they can't let their love overflow.


	3. jolt: Lightning

a/n: A teensy-tiny little transition update. A real chapter is on its way...

* * *

**theme #37 - jolt

* * *

**On an early spring day there is lightning, and he realizes with a jolt running through him that Maika is not in his arms.

It's an ill omen, he feels, but he tries his best to shake it out of his head and forget it. The lightning crashes again, and the heavy spring rain continues to patter on his roof, while a slant of spring-gray light slips through his window.

(_The next time he sees her, he kisses her, but it doesn't feel like enough)_.

It is a late summer day, in the sweltering, melting heat, that he finds out Kazuhito has betrayed him.


	4. news, letter: Fall

**theme: letter, news

* * *

**

The heat is unbearable.

It literally beats down on him through the window, and he wants to take off his jacket so he won't suffocate (even at so fine a school, air conditioning is a new innovation and it is broken). Then, he could feel it on his sticky skin and though he would be risking sunburn, that would be preferable.

He is emperor, though, so he sits like a statue in his desk, frozen and unmoving. Disbelieving. In a nightmare.

_I'm taking this news so very well, _he thought to himself, without even a trace of irony.

_Emperor – _

_Kamiya Kazuhito has challenged your postion, and is calling for a movement against you. _

_He wants to seize your position._

_- Katsuro_

Thirty agonizing minutes have passed since he's received it.

Katsuro stands nervously before him, and Itsuki's eyes move up from the paper to his assistant's pale face.

"He's challenging my position?"

"Yes, Emperor."

"On terms of trust?"

"Yes."

"Explain, please."

Katsuro takes a deep breath, despite the mild tone of Itsuki's voice. He's been working as Itsuki's aid for years now – part of an up-and-coming but not-quite-there family.

If there is anyone supposed he could trust in the power struggle that was about to crash through the school, then he supposes Katsuro was as good as any. Maika didn't count, he thought quickly to himself, because this had nothing to do with her and, he was going to keep her out of it anyway.

"Kamiya-san wants to usurp your position, Emperor." He glances at a single, uncrumpled, paper in his hands. "He's citing lack of, and he's asking for an election. I would say a 're-election, but Emperors are not voted into their office."

There was quiet while Itsuki thought.

He almost forgot that he was sweating.

"Then we'll have to beat him at his own game," Itsuki said finally, quietly, mildly, just as he had spoken before.

He professionally clasped his red-with-heat hands and that was that.

* * *

"_What's distracting you_?" she whispers to him in the hallway one day.

Two classes later, as he's walking up the podium, he manages a whisper in reply: "_It's nothing. Don't worry_."

She worries anyway.

He knows.

* * *

"How are things looking, Katsuro-san?"

"The people don't want a change. They see no reason to elect you out of office – after all, you're their Gold."

Itsuki, despite himself, feels pleased and comforted by their faith.

* * *

"_What's wrong with you?"_

"_Please, Maika, don't worry for me."

* * *

_

"The numbers speak well, emperor. There's no need to worry."

* * *

"_Itsuki…"

* * *

_

"… Will from now on be known only as a Silver."

Shock fills him. Shock fills him so there is no room for anger at Kazuhito's betryal or Katsuro's lies, for rage or for sorrow. He has fallen. He has fallen from the throne that he thought was granted to him, the only Gold – _invincible, unrivaled – _and he has fallen to – fallen to nothing, fallen to…

"Kamiya Kazuhito will be known as the new Gold."

It is Katsuro who reads this, with seeming strength in his voice. Bravado, Itsuki realizes, because he alone hears and sees the shake in Katsuro's voice and knees, as Katsuro calls Kazuhito's name and bends down respectfully to his new emperor.

Kazuhito nods. He is ice as he always is, seemingly stoic and now, Itsuki discovers, cold-blooded. What motivation would he have to steal Itsuki's birthright? Did he only do it because he could?

Kazuhito, the only person Itsuki could really relate to.

Kazuhito, his only [_unsure_ friend.

Kazuhito, the traitor.

Kazuhito, the Gold, walks to the podium as Itsuki stands mute in shock.

"I have a new policy I would like to instill."

Quiet falls over the cheering crowd of students, and Itsuki listens from a world away. His thoughts are frozen and slow moving in another time and place.

"I would like to create a position that is beneath Gold, but above Silver."

Itsuki is weakly tugged back to the here and now. He feels a tinge of disgust. Is Kazuhito going to rub salt in his would by making false amends, granting him this position? If he does, then Itsuki will have to…

"My new platinum will be Rikyuu Maika."

…die.

Maika.

_Maika._

What was Kazuhito _playing _at?

A silence has fallen. Maika walks to the stage with a painful reluctance.

There is something about the way he said '_my' _that Itsuki does not like at all.

* * *

Itsuki walks into the Emperor's office one last time. It is his until five o' clock this afternoon. That is what the school director said, in tones that were polite but not respectful. And that is all that he said, before turning his back on Itsuki to shake Kazuhito's hand.

He opens the door.

Before he can register anything, Maika is there, and she jumps at him, sobbing. She nearly knocks him over with her weight, and he holds her. The situation comes back to him. His grip tightens. She cries, cries, cries, for he-doesn't know long.

Kazuhito has bought her off. Forced her to be his.

Her sobs slow, and finally, she loosens her hold. She looks into his eyes before closing her own and kisses him lightly, but he continues to hold on to her.

"I have to go now," she says, with the broken voice of one who has become weary and worn with weeping.

"_Stay,"_ he whispers into her hair. She smells good. He can't discern exactly what she smells like. Maybe some kind of flower. He wants to know. He wants to know everything about her now, because after now there will never be another time for these kinds of questions.

But he doesn't ask.

She lets him go with one last look, and the tears in her eyes make him hate the world for making her cry like this. For ripping _him_ apart like this.

(_It's too much for him to handle. Too much for comfort.)_

She's gone.

Through a daze, he walks to his desk and gathers his things. When he is finished, he notices a typed up memo on the desk. He picks it up and reads it.

_Otomiya Itsuki – _

_I hope that you have gathered up your things. I ask on behalf of the Emperor that you leave your office by 3:00 this afternoon. I regret that you must leave sooner than the school director requested of you. I hope this does not put any constraint on your valuable time. _

_- Cordially, Maeda Katsuro_


	5. our distance, that person: Doll Dies

_Dirty. Dirty. Dirty._

His scuffed shoes drum the beat on the pavement.

_Dirty. Dirty. Dirty._

He shouldn't worry about getting sweat on his uniform, or ripping it on his gate. He shouldn't worry about it. No one will be looking anymore, anyway.

_Dirty. Dir-_

_Stop it, _he shouts internally, and he shoves the chant out of his mind. He slumps to the ground. He's made it home, right outside of his gate. He can't bear to enter his home like this, though – face flushed, breathing ragged.

He shuts his eyes tight, so tight they hurt.

_(She's cold, frigid, frozen like a statue. He lays a hand over her thigh, his lips slide around hers; the hand works its way up her skirt, and the beautiful, breathing statue moves and pulls back. She bites her lower lip, trying to overwhelm the pain and the humiliation, and he's kissing her again. His eyes are shut. He doesn't see. He doesn't want to see. He doesn't want to know that her eyes are open. That they are, like a frightened animal's, alert and wary and trained fearfully on their predator.)_

He didn't want to know that she was only a doll in that position.

Because, Itsuki realizes with a breaking heart, Kazuhito _loves _Maika.

(The greedy bastard. That is not what Itsuki's heart breaks for.)

It's for Maika - that Maika will never love Kazuhito back with anything but an empty body.

* * *

He takes her hand in his, and for some reason it comes as a relief that it's still warm, with blood inside.

"You need to leave him."

He uses his most gentle voice, a tone quiet and tinged with tenderness.

She looks up, and the moonlight makes her eyes strangely bright and dark at the same time. "I can't. My family depends on his."

Itsuki lets go of her hand, and she numbly allows it to slip back to it's rightful place, at her side.

"Listen, Maika-" his voice is still quiet, but now it's hurried along and nervous –"You don't have to come back to me. I understand. But you need to leave him. It's… it's killing you to be with him. You're better off alone."

She takes a step back. The dead, dry leaves underfoot crackle. He can't see her face, obscured by her halo-blonde hair and the shadows, but he thinks she might be crying.

"I'm fine. Itsuki, my family's not."

She looks up at him, smiles, but he can't tell whether her eyes are wet with tears or not. "I'll make it. Please, don't meet me like this anymore."

He grabs her wrist. Forceful enough to stop her from going, but there's no need for force: she's already frozen. There's a rapid record of crunches, of footsteps, but with this tiny action it all halts. And his voice, too quiet, too quick, is the only sound.

"Please, Maika, _please_, just-"

"I'll be okay," she says shakily.

Quiet. 

Passive.

He raises his voice.

"You're not fine. _You're not okay_. It's disgusting – Maika… it makes me want to vomit when I see him touching you. It's dir-"

She looks up at him. He cuts himself off. Her eyes are shiny.

"_What's _dirty? Itsuki? The way I…"

He backs down, stunned. "I never said it was you-"

"I'm not. I'm not that. Itsuki. I'm not a…" she trails off. She's on the dangerous brink of sobbing, now. He can't push her any further. He doesn't want to. It's impossible for him.

_Not a whore._

_Just a doll._

"I know that."

He drops her hand. He lets her go. For good, he thinks.

"Goodbye, then."

She nods, hesitant and at the same time grateful. They stand there for a moment like that, at the abandoned, moonlit entrance to the school, hidden by pine trees and half-dead trees and altogether uncomfortable in the autumn night chill and the presence of one another. The death of a lifetime's love hangs between them, a distance so dense that it's like Kazuhito is standing there.

"'Bye. Itsuki. Thank you. So much."

_"No,"_ he wants to whisper, "_thank you."_ But he thought it would be a mercy to let her have the last word.

* * *

He sees them in the halls.

On the front steps.

And most of all, he sees them in Kazuhito's office.

(Even thirty years later, he will see them in his mind's eye so sharp and vivid it makes him feel dizzy all over again. He'll try to suppress these mental images as best as he can.)

He watches too hard, he knows; he keeps his eyes open for them. If he were a wiser man, he would turn his head away and he would ignore the touches they exchange. He wouldn't torture himself by walking past the Emperor's office, taking pains to watch through Kazuhito's windows.

But he can't help it.

He knows that Maika is hurting, is hurting because of him, but he wants to be with her so badly that he can't afford to make a clean break. No matter how much distance is between them, no matter that the person who holds her – who holds the strings attached to her doll-limbs - is Kazuhito. Itsuki still loves her.

So he still smiles at her in the hallway, although he does the little he can and does not arrange to meet with her again.

_Sad, really_, he thinks, _how hung up I am._

It is a wonder and a blessing he never got his hopes up by knowing that, years later, she would take him back. Because he distance and the person would never go away, and things would never go back to the way they were.


	6. kHz: Listening

* * *

#7 - kHz (used to measure frequency of sound waves)

* * *

Itsuki has never considered himself to have particularly good hearing, but for the next six months of his senior year, he had never heard better.

He continues his masochistic practice of passing by them every day. Every day, he catches multiple glimpses - out of the corner of his eye. Kissing, touching, Kazuhito whispering something to her in a voice more gentle and stripped-bare than Itsuki thought his quiet, cool, long-long-ago-friend could have ever spoken.

It is no condolence, because even if Maika loved him in return - and she doesn't, far from it, she shivers at his touch - Itsuki could not be happy watching them and sometimes wished he were deaf. The sound of _them - _of their relationship - drowned out the sound of everything else. He would be in class, and would hear Maika, in the corner, whispering to the traitor Emperor. "_No, please, no thank you."_ Always polite, always unwilling, voice always tinged with reluctance and regret.

For as good as Itsuki's hearing had gotten, Kazuhito's seemed to have declined. He was deaf, dumb, blind and blind when it came to Maika. He would ignore the reluctance, the regret (the occasional flat-out _anger_) and would continue to take her. There was no _pursue. _She was already won, albeit by force.

And now Itsuki is standing here, thinking about all these things, because he is a terrible and certainly some kind of voyeur and masochist. He has got to be. He is otherwise insane.

Itsuki is sitting on a bench that offers a perfectly unobstructed view through the open windows of the Emperor's office.

Really, Kazuhito should use curtains. Itsuki finds that this nervous excuse is the only way he can justify his presence.

It is the same thing as every day. The same show. Deep, passionate, one-sided kissing. Kissing a doll. _Poor, poor Maika,_ Itsuki used to think as he watched it. He still thinks that, but the feeling registers more on a subconscious level than anything, and otherwise his mind is as bare of thoughts during the act as Maika's face is of an expression.

"Itsuki-sama? Are you-?" He blinks, and his face betrays his surprise for a moment before reverting back to blank. She's just another bronze. She's cute, with short hair in curled tails and an unusually small, high voice. She has a face that no one will ever remember.

He gives her a slight smile and says hello. She does not smile back, but he notices that she is wringing her hands and stealing furtive glances at (in turn) the ground, anywhere on Itsuki but his eyes, and the open window.

He's a bit baffled, because it doesn't quite add up. "Are you... for them..."

She blushes. Her whole face goes the kind of bubblegum pink that only exists in a shoujo manga.

"No," she says too quickly. "I mean, I know what they're doing, but, I swear, I'm not the kind of person who would... but you..."

"Yes," he replies, softly. She finally meets his eyes - only for a second - at the tone of sadness in his voice.

"It's not really a perverted thing, is it?"

He doesn't answer. His eyes stick to the window, but it is hard to concentrate on his pain or Maika or anything else while this girl is talking. Her talking makes the moment feel odd, like he is out of place in this scene. Like he is just a viewer. He is, though he knows (in a way) he is not.

"I see." She hesitates for a moment. He doesn't look away from the window, but he hears (and feels) her sit down beside him.

Itsuki is more baffled than ever.

"My name is-"

"I don't need to know."

He imagines that he can hear this girl's heartbeat like he once heard Maika's. And he wonders if this girl's heart beats the same way as his. Slowly, steady, agonizing - like it wants to die with disappointment. He remembers a day (it seems so long ago; it was winter) when he could hear Maika's heartbeat up-close, quick, fluttering with giddiness.

(But that was so long ago.)

He does not look at the girl again, and they sit together, bearing the burden of reflection, until twilight shadows their faces, until Maika and Kazuhito are long gone. Only then do they bid one another a simple goodbye and leave in separate directions.


	7. cradle: Ashes

**title:** Ashes, Ashes  
**parings: **Kamiya Maika/ Otomiya Itsuki  
**fandom: **Gentlemen's Alliance [Shinshi Doumei Cross]  
**disclaimer: **The characters and storyline on which this fanfiction is based belong to Arina Tanemura. And not me.  
**written for: **thirty kisses challenge community  
**theme: **#22, cradle  
**rating: **K+

[a/n: This was actually written back in October/November when I first got the challenge... after all, how perfect is the prompt 'cradle' for this couple? This moment was burning to be written for them, so I hopped out of sequence and wrote it. Since I don't have enough inspiration to properly continue with this story, I decided to switch things up: here is a moment from the future, which shall be explained later (if I ever get to it...). I feel bad - originally, this story was strictly regimented, in parts and phases and everything. Oh well.] ):

* * *

There are ashes lying in the cradle.

Even as a newborn he can tell she'll look like Maika. Blonde hair, like him and Maika both, with the clear blue eyes of her mother.

Her name is Ashes, and she's lying in the cradle.

Her name's Haine, Maika told him. But that's all she said before she fell silent and then left the room.

She was the one who'd invited him here.

After all of this time, all of this pain.

It seemed she didn't want to prolong this (sure to be last) encounter any more than he did, but at the same time he wished he could kiss her again, just one last time.

Like in the gardenia garden, one last kiss. One last sweet kiss, from a fairy-tale filled with starlight dusting them and wishes being granted.

One last time, one last time.

One last time.

Haine.

"Bye-bye, baby Haine-chan." He tries to use a cutesy voice, but it's hard because he thinks he has a sob in his throat. "Bye-bye, my baby."

She looks so cute, like she'd be fun to tease. He leans down and places a kiss on her forehead. She smells good, clean and fresh like only a baby can smell.

But she doesn't do anything, because she's a newborn and she's asleep. How ironic. She will probably never see him, and will never meet him. There is a reason he started with goodbye. She will live her life as Kazuhito's daughter, but he already sees hints of himself in her Maika (_his heart thumps, and he realizes that the thought of a concrete reminder is thrilling to him)_. But Itsuki was never supposed to be able to have children (_a miracle!)_, and…

Kazuhito can't be stupid enough to believe.

But… there's hope that he'll choose blindness over acknowledging Maika's adultery.

Her blue eyes flutter open, and for a moment he can see life shining there, life that he hasn't seen in Maika's eyes for years (_but then, he hasn't seen her for years)_.

_A miracle_, his heart beats.

He door opens loud and breaks his thoughts, and Maika enters the airy, too-bright nursery. She's out of breath, probably from running up so many stairs. His baby (he's already futilely attached himself to her) begins crying.

"Kazuhito – just called me," she tells him, panting a bit. "You should… go home." She doesn't know that his home is empty and bare, and bigger than is decent for a man with no family. She stares, waiting, at the floor. Her eyes are hollow. The baby cries, but for the moment Maika can't hear. Anything. He wishes she could hear his heart beating, like on that cold, blustery, _happy_ day, long, long ago.  
Only now his heart is breaking.

_It's ashes now_, he reminds himself_, there is no_ _miracle. _

There are no miracles if Maika is half-dead inside.

(_Her only life pulsates, like a dying ember, in the ashes in the cradle.)_


End file.
